


The Extraordinarily Unsubtle Art of Attraction

by lrceleste



Series: DA Kink Meme Fills [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Kink Meme, M/M, Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, basically a crack fic hiding behind something serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrceleste/pseuds/lrceleste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:</p><p>M!Adaar is kind of innocent-ish and has always wondered why people are so damn scared of him (i.e. Flissa), when Bull only needs to smirk and they fall into his bed. So he asks Bull what his secret is, and Bull gladly reveals...<br/>It's the bare chest.<br/>That's it. No secret strategy, just walk around shirtless with your bulging muscle on display and people will want you.<br/>Adaar tries it. It works better than he hoped. How will he ever get rid of all these stalkers now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Extraordinarily Unsubtle Art of Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I deviated a little, but I think I got the basis in, just didn't manage to fill all of the extra points, but I got some of them in.
> 
> Just wanted to write something whilst I'm taking a break from A Magister's Birthright and filling my first Kink meme prompt seemed like a good idea...

“Hey Bull.” Adaar sighed as he leaned against the wall, tugging at the inquisition uniform, wondering why he hadn’t demanded another refit instead of simply accepting the jacket. The tailor had never fit a qunari before and it showed. The way it wrapped so tightly around his middle, it wasn’t just ‘accentuating his shape’, with the effort he was putting into breathing in and trying to loosen the fabric he’d probably have dropped a size by the end of the evening.

“How’s it going Boss?” The Iron Bull asked with a sceptical tone, eyebrow raised as he looked at Adaar’s evident discomfort.

“Give you one guess.”

“Orlesians?”

“That too.” He grumbled, remembering the snide comments as he wandered past.

He scanned the room; watching the nobles gesticulate wildly, laugh at jokes out of social convention and not actual humour. His gaze wandered out of the window, to the gardens, more nobles, but one in particular caught his attention. Eyes rolling, moustache twitching, one arm crossed over his chest as the other held a champagne flute, sipping from it in between sentences of what appeared to be quite a heated debate with a masked party attendee. Trust Dorian, of all people, to upset the nobles.

Adaar could have picked Sera, or Solas, or Blackwall to accompany him. But instead he picked the people who seemed least likely to cause trouble at a grand ball, might as well have let Sera throw in a bee grenade as let the Tevinter Altus start a debate.

Evidently his thoughts showed plainly on his features, in the small smile that tugged at his lips. Bull didn’t even have to look out of the window to know what he was looking at. “You should ask him to dance.”

“Like he’d dance with me.” Adaar chuckled, finally pulling away from the window, concentrating on the task at hand, instead of the intoxicating way Dorian’s lips moved, and the slight, adorable wrinkle of his nose when he was passionately frustrated about something. “How do you do it Bull?”

“I can do a lot of things, you’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“I see you, in the taverns, picking up the waitresses… and the waiters.” He added after a moments thought. “It’s like second nature, you barely even bat an eyelid and they’re clinging onto you. What’s your secret?”

“My secret?” He asked with humour.

“Yeah. There must be something.”

“Well, there is one thing, but it isn’t exactly secret…”

“Come on Bull, I need all the help I can get.” Adaar begged.

With a chuckle he lowered his voice, and the inquisitor leaned in. “So, I’m Qunari, you’re Vashoth, people have this image in their mind, of what they expect of us. We’re supposed to be forbidden, big, muscled, horned creatures. All you have to do is give them a taste of the forbidden.”

“I… I don’t catch your drift. I’m already Qunari, what else can I be doing?”

Sighing, the Bull answered simply. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?!” Adaar asked, a slight blush tinting the tips of his ears.

“Trust me. Everyone loves it. Walk around with no jacket on, flex a little, he’ll be like putty.” He caught the way that Bull suddenly shifted from everyone to ‘he’, and his eyes roamed back to Dorian for an instant.

“I’m a mage. It’s not the same; I don’t have all the scars and the ruggedness to back it up.”

“Nah, young guy like you, you’ll be a heart throb.”

“I wish.” He chuckled. “Anyway, best go before the nobles wonder where I got to.”

-

The Venatori were really just a pain in the ass now more than anything. He hadn’t had time to change into something more appropriate for combat when they’d been jumped by a group of agents, not so much of an issue until he’d ended up flat on his back in an attempt to avoid a fireball, his barrier focused on Bull and Dorian too busy tracking down a stalker.

Now he was safe, tucked away in one of the hidden corners of the palace, supposedly off-limits to all guests. He’d found his way in easy enough, and from the sound of it so had a couple of intoxicated nobles in the next room over. You’d think if they were sneaking about they’d at least be a bit more discreet about it.

Adaar pulled off the jacket inspecting the stains in the fabric. His formal attire was caked in dirt and was that, yes, he was bleeding. Josie was going to kill him if the assassin or the Venatori didn’t.

As he sighed he laid the unsalvageable wreck of a jacket down on the bed and stuck his head out of the door. The party was still in full force. Perhaps if he could find Josephine she had a contingency plan, or if he could sneak to the guest quarters he could at least find a shirt, something, anything.

He emerged from the room slowly, standing tall as he descended the steps, wishing that this could look less like he was the guest of honour, no matter how true that was. He heard the few gasps and winced slightly, his hands moving instinctively, arms folding over his chest, body moving in any way that would allow him to cover his half naked self even though it was completely futile.

“Inquisitor?” A quiet Orlesian accent asked after he had barely traversed a quarter of the way through the vestibule.

Turning slowly he composed himself, the smile pulling at his lips as his eyes fell on a small crowd of four maidens (and one bachelor he noted) that had huddled together. The lady at the front of the crowd, the one who he could only imagine had addressed him initially, stood, one hand on hip, the other calmly waving her fan, lips pursed. “You appear to have lost something.”

“I, er, yeah.” He answered not as eloquently as Josephine would have liked him to. Some of the girls giggled and he noticed that a couple more joined the group, one a lot older than the rest, far older than him (the look on her face a little disconcerting to say the least, like he was a prize piece of meat and not a being.) “Is there something I can help you all with?”

“I never realised the herald had such a fantastic physique.” One of the girls who had giggled commented.

“He is a qunari.” The man stated. “They’re all muscle.”

“Yeah…” He drawled, inching backwards, eyes widening as the entire group shifting forward slightly. “Terribly sorry to cut this all short, but I’ve got important business with other members of the inquisition. I must be on my way.” He stated trying to regain some of the formal air that he was supposed to be holding, even whilst he lacked a shirt.

Turning on his heel he strode the rest of the way down the vestibule turning sharply into the hall of heroes, very aware that he was being followed. It was ridiculous to think that maybe Bull had the right of it as he broke out into a sprint, hearing the definite click of heeled shoes pick up pace behind him, mixed with a few shrill giggles.

When he pushed into the guest wing, skidding slightly on the polished floor, much to the horror of some of the nobles who gasped, hands raised on hearts and mouths, before chuckling as the ones closest the door discovered what was truly occurring.

“Bull?!” He cried much to the surprise of the qunari, whose eyes widened, coughing on the mouthful of food he had when he saw the inquisitor’s state of undress and panic. The Ben-Hassrath quickly turned to the table beside him, grabbing some of the silverware and brandishing it like a weapon. “How do I turn it off?!”

“Turn it off?” Bull asked when he swallowed away the food, lowering his make-shift weapon ever so slightly.

“There’s a group of women, and a man, following me.” He panted. “This doesn’t usually happen.”

“Orlesians.” He chuckled. “Begging for it. Tonight’s going to be easy.”

“Yeah, you bet it will, but right now I have a bunch of crazy nobles chasing me, and none of them want me dead for a change.”

“He’s there!” He heard one of the women cry and as he turned to run Bull’s booming laugh mixed with the click of heels.

As he ran into the gardens he sighed, this had to stop sooner or later. He had an assassin to find, he couldn’t spend the entire evening running from desperate maidens. He glanced over his shoulder as he pushed through nobles, checking that the group weren’t approaching too quickly.

“Adaar?” Dorian asked in surprise as the qunari stopped suddenly, only a foot from knocking the Tevinter over. The mages eyes widened, now level with and only inches from Adaar’s heaving chest. As a smile pulled at the Tevinter’s lips, he raised his glass, his voice turning sultry. “Adaar.”

“Not you too.” He groaned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked in confusion. Before answering Adaar glanced back over his shoulder and sure enough the group was gaining on him, visible through the window. Evidently Dorian had also spotted the crowd for his fingers wrapped around Adaar’s wrist, beckoning him. “Come, I know somewhere you can hide.”

Dorian pulled him quickly to a door at the side of the garden, launching him inside and slamming the door. It must have been a store room of sorts, he could only guess from the brief glimpse he had managed to get, before being thrown into complete darkness. He didn’t dare spark a fire in his palm, afraid that one of the many boxes he was pressed against may ignite at any moment.

“The inquisitor?” He heard Dorian ask slyly. “Why no, I’ve barely seen him all evening.”

He waited a few moments longer, but before he could emerge from the room, the door opened and instead the mage joined him in the cramped store cupboard. Dorian held no reservations about creating a source of light.

“Well this sure is cosy.” He chuckled, eyes drifting down for a moment. Adaar was glad that Dorian’s flame bathed everything in an orange glow; it made his blush far less obvious. “Mind explaining any of this?”

“My jacket got coated in mud when I dodged that fireball.”

“An improvement I imagine.” He quipped, chuckling quietly. “So you decided to embrace your roots?”

“I decided to find an alternative and got jumped by a bunch of horny maidens, and a guy.”

“Now, I’m hardly ‘jumping’ you.”

“Oh, no I mean, there was a man amongst the group. Not that you jumped me. Though I’m not saying I’d object to it.”

“Oh?” He asked with a raised eye brow. Adaar felt the hand against his middle before he thought even Dorian realised he had placed it there. With a cough he quickly withdrew it. “Well, perhaps I should let you find some clothing. Don’t want the women to rip you apart before you can save the world.”

Opening the door slowly Dorian checked the coast was clear first before laughing and stepping out of the door. “I think your problem is solved, and you might want to see this.”

Adaar stepped out cautiously, Bulls laughter could be across the garden and when he located the Qunari, not hard considering his size, it was obvious why he was in such high spirits. He had removed his jacket, now as bare as Adaar, the small crowd that had been following him gathered around, a few tucked under his arms. It would be an easy night for sure.

“I think this might come in use.” Dorian suggested, pulling one of the inquisition jackets from a near-by banister, swinging it idly. Qunari sized. Adaar would have to thank the mercenary captain later.

-

As far as parties went this one was a disaster in his eyes. But the Orlesians seemed to love it, the scandal, the almost assassination. He was just thankful it was all over and done with. Now he stood alone on the balcony at the edge of the ballroom, thoroughly chilled by the wind, having removed the second set of attire that even when a demon had torn it beyond repair. He’d at least kept it on long enough to accuse Florianne of being the assassin, but he’d seen Josie’s face out of the corner of his eye. He’d prefer to keep the death count to a minimum tonight, he’d speak to her in the morning, after their victory had a chance to sink in, and perhaps she would forgot the fact he had managed to destroy two sets of inquisition uniforms. And perhaps the Maker was a nug that lived in a tea pot on the edge of a rainbow. Both highly unlikely.

Sighing as he heard footsteps Adaar straightened his back, expecting some other dignitary, even though he wasn’t in any state to accommodate them, or maybe even Josephine, come to assault him with her clipboard. When he turned, eyes falling on the Tevinter a smile pulled at his lips instead, and he continued to lounge against the banister. Dorian’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight, the qunari stretching slightly, chest bared.

“Is this a new arrangement?” He asked as he sauntered forward. “Are we to endure both the Iron Bull and now the Inquisitor baring their chests like brutes?”

“I don’t know. It’s a bit cold.” He chuckled, watching Dorian’s eyes wander south. “And I don’t think I could deal with the attention all of the time.”

“You’ll be getting a big head, an entourage following you around like that every time you flash some skin.”

“Can’t be having that.” He joked.

“Certainly not.”

“Herald of Andraste, the chosen one, with an ego, unimaginable.”

“Was that a joke? All of this attention is going straight to your head.”

“Hey, I joke plenty often, just ask Bull or Varric. Laugh a minute me.”

“And you’ve barely blushed even once.” Upon the mention of it he could feel his cheeks heating and Dorian’s lips pulled into a cheeky grin. “Ah there we are. That’s the inquisitor I know.”

“So you’ve noticed?”

“Noticed? Are you referring to your blushing or your attempts at flirting?”

“You’ve noticed.” He stated, turning still a darker shade of crimson. “If it’s unwelcome then say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Now I didn’t say that.” He chuckled leaning against the railings, his eyes scanning over Adaar’s chest once again.

“You want me to continue? Seriously? We’re talking about the same thing right, me tripping over myself like a moron.”

“I think it’s rather endearing.” He confessed, hand resting on one of Adaar’s biceps.

Bull’s advice from earlier came back to him and he stupidly decided to indulge in it. Tentatively he tensed his arm watching Dorian’s eye widen, Adam’s apple bobbing. _Like putty_ Bull had said. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Dorian chuckled quietly as he stepped away from the railings, holding out his hands. “Sure, let’s dance.”

“I wasn’t really expecting you to say yes.” Adaar chuckled as he stepped forward, taking Dorian’s hands in his own.

“Why ever not?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I’m not particularly adept when it comes to… This kind of thing.”

“Well, perhaps I could show you something.”

Instead of pulling him into a position suitable for dancing the mage pulled him closer, hands by their sides, as he bounced onto the tips of his toes. Adaar was surprised by the action, instinct telling him to pull away, but he knew better than that, and instead he leaned in closer, receiving the soft brush of full lips. When Dorian’s feet slowly flattened against the floor his lips followed, locked together.

When they finally drew away from one another Adaar muttered breathlessly. “Perhaps you could show me again sometime?”

“Only if you agree to show me this again sometime?” Dorian asked, hand against Adaar’s chest even though they were still interlocked.

“I’m sure I could make a deal.” He chuckled.

 


End file.
